'mum?’
‘yes, dear?’
‘come here. look. look at what this says.’
her mum makes her way to the computer.
‘what, dear?’ she rests her hand on her daughters frail shoulder.
‘look. it says “practice makes perfect, but nobody's perfect, so why practice?” the seven year old looks at her mum in anticipation. hoping that now her mum won’t make her practice her homework.
her mum smiles ever so gently.
‘you can’t be perfect in every shape and form...just like you can’t be happy in every shape and form.’
‘mum...do you mean daddy?'
her mum looks out the window. out into the open air.
‘you can’t be perfect as a whole, dear. everyone has flaws.’
YOU ARE READING
Out of Sight, Out of Mind.
Poetryconsists of random pieces of poetry, unfinished one-shots, ideas, and my thoughts that don't make sense (beware; use of lower case letters) Short Story #172 Cover by: @inserene_ [ © billie rose two-thousand-&-thirteen ]
